Religion (n.) is the utterance of a community concerning its own Spirit.
Religion (n.) can exist without philosophy, but philosophy cannot exist without religion, because philosophy contains religion within it.
Religion (n.) is peace found only when one's mundane heart is broken and so raised above its mere natural existence.
Religion (n.) proclaims earlier in time than Science what Spirit is — but only Science is Spirit's true knowledge of itself.
Religion (n.) like philosophy refuses to recognise the finite as something ultimate, uncreated or eternal — which makes it idealist too.
Religion (n.) would have no meaning at all if the fleeting surface of the sensuous world were still taken for the truth.
Religion (n.) is man's self-elevation not from finite to infinite — those are mere products of reflection — but from finite life to infinite life.
Religion (n.) is the one concern whose final end is its object itself; in it spirit frees itself from all finitude.
Religion (n.) is one thing to be capable of and another to have — otherwise every ordinary sense-intuition, which implicitly contains the principle, would already be religion.
Religion (n.) belongs only to human beings because its seat is thinking: the heart that senses God is a thinking heart, not an animal's.
Religion (n.) is the foundation of the ethical system — but only the foundation; the state is the divine will as present spirit unfolding into an organized world.
Religion (n.) as the basis of the state can be perverted to mean: give people a religion so that their spirit, enchained by it, may be the more readily oppressed.
Religion (n.) appears at first as only one part of existence, the other part being the life lived in the real world; its perfection is for the two to become identical.
Religion (n.) for Hegel is not just human consciousness of God but the absolute's own consciousness of itself, still dim and embodied in human minds.
Religion (n.) is the sabbath of life: here flow the waters of forgetfulness, all harshness of fate passes into a dream, and finite life seems like a desert.
Religion (n.) is not intrinsically mysterious . . . it is, rather, a revelation of what mind is.
Religion (n.) is truth spoken for everyone; science is the same truth in another tongue that only a few labour to learn — like Homer's things with one name among gods and another among mortals.
Religion (n.) presupposes that consciousness, self-consciousness, reason and spirit have run their full course; it is their simple totality, their absolute self.
Religion (n.) is suspiciously most commended in times of distress and oppression; to refer the oppressed of a despotism to its consolations would be a bitter jest.
Religion (n.) without philosophy cannot see the limits of its own images: either it takes them as undistorted truth, reading the Bible literally, or it concludes that God is to that extent unknowable.